


Life Ballad (Seasonal)

by leslie057



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas, Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Holiday, Hurt, Jancy fic, Love, Music, Party, Post-Season/Series 02, Seasonal, Secret Santa, Songs, jonathan x nancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-06 17:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslie057/pseuds/leslie057
Summary: Three Christmases with Jonathan and Nancy, adorned with songs making up a ballad of their seasonal life. Also my Secret Santa gift for @los-laureles-fics on Tumblr!! ♡





	1. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

**₁ ₉ ₈** **₄**

After weeks and weeks of stress and commotion, the last day of school before Christmas break came. Along with it withering, scattered sleet that was supposed to turn into a storm—a storm hardly as destructive as the recent events which endangered their lives. Wounding them when they had just gotten up, on the road to recovery. Her last day was really yesterday, Thursday. With Jonathan turning in some final assignments and taking tests (he missed so much school in November), she had no reason to get up at dawn and go to school today. There was a small group of girls that still talked to her a little, but if they were even there, she knew they probably wouldn’t make the effort. She found herself unable to resent them for it. The series of dishonest stories that gained traction so quickly earlier in the winter worked together to create a terrible image of her. A slutty, bitchy image of her. Anyway, she didn’t feel like going.  
  
Later that morning, she woke up to her mom rubbing her shoulder, the bracelets on her wrist making ringing sounds while being shaken together. “Nancy, honey, get up,” she directed. Nancy sat up in bed reluctantly, blinking to let her eyes adjust while her mother moved away and over to her closet. “What are you doing?” Without answering her daughter’s question, she spoke, “Are you wearing this tonight?” and held up a dressy shirt. They were already having their holiday party because her dad had a work conference out of state after Christmas that he needed to leave a few days early for.   
  
As the girl swung her legs over the side of the bed, she sleepily replied, “I don’t know what I’m wearing.”  
  
“You...you’re unbelievable. We need to find something,” she continued and gracefully searched.  
  
“We have _hours_ ,” she reminded while getting up. “And it’s not like there’ll be that many people to see me.” With more attention drawn to the town—their home—because of unexplained events and missing persons cases, less family wanted to come and visit. It seemed like they had more excuses. Some of Karen’s side were more likely to show because her father’s never seemed that interested in them. Still, it was another disconcerting reminder that things weren’t what they were years ago, and they would never be what they had been.  
  
“Wait, look, look,” her mother called just as she tried to go into the hallway. “Look how nice.” She confidently showed her a wrap dress with long sleeves. The skirt part measured above the knee, it was black in color and made of soft material. “Please say you’ll wear this.”  
  
“It’s...I’ll wear it,” she sighed, giving up. She did like the dress.  
  
═════════  
  
The snow picked up that night rapidly. The thin sleet became real snow which covered the pine straw on the ground with powder. She was kneeling in front of her mirror, a condensed collection of the makeup items she owned next to her on the floor. This felt like the only thing that had stayed the same, her routine of getting ready. Blending sepia eyeshadow out beneath her lash line, letting the fawn shade stay on her lid. Maybe it was because it calmed her, or maybe she was doing it to lead her more distant family members into thinking she was doing fine. Maybe they would associate her effort with...what’s the opposite of brokenness?  
  
She brushed blush lightly onto the sides of her face, leaned back to check if her application looked the way she wanted it too. She exhaled deeply, running a hand through her short hair which she had straightened. It was easier to curl her hair because of its natural tendencies to wave, but again with the effort thing. More change. As she studied herself, she wondered how others saw her. If they could see the darkness behind her veil of pretty makeup and shiny hair, the darkness that had bloomed in her last year.  
  
═════════  
  
“Hi, sweet girl!” Karen’s sister squealed while hugging Nancy. Looking a little less Hawkins and a lot more _Vogue._

“Hi, aunt Lori,” she greeted politely while taking in her blonde waves, satin top, straight skirt, black pantyhose, and heels. Size zero everything, probably. Now she understood why mom only made salad for dinner, whose approval she was trying to get.  
  
“Oh, look at you. You’re stunning. Really stunning, Nance,” Lori told her while throwing her shawl in Mike’s direction and stepping toward the kitchen. Nancy pressed her lips together, watching the newly old-looking boy roll his eyes. “Oh, _my God_ ,” she said helplessly to him and followed her.  
  
Later, they ended up with a small crowd. Aunt Lori, her new husband, aunt Lisa, her baby, Karen’s friend, Ted’s friend, Lucas, Dustin, and Max. No Joyce, Jonathan, or Will because they were eating separately with Hopper and El beforehand. But they were coming eventually, or else Nancy would have some killing to do, as promised.  
  
“Ok, so, I wanna hear it. How are you, babe? How’s school?” Lori asked her, bringing a fork full of lettuce to her mouth.  
  
“Oh, it’s great. Um...and well, I’m great, so-”  
  
“Wait, what’s that thing you’re in? With the, you know, with the projects and the leadership and all that?”  
  
“National Honor Society,” she answered graciously.  
  
“Oh! Ye-es, National Honor Society,” the young woman repeated happily. Loudly. “That’s...that’s just amazing, babe. You’re so smart.”  
  
“Thank you,” she accepted, glancing at Lisa as she rocked her baby in the living room. Feeling Ted’s coworker’s eyes linger on her, she wished she were over there. “You just must be quite the girl at your school. Just the most stunning. I mean, I know for _me_ , it was like all the keepable boys, you know, who did they want? They wanted the pretty girls with the high GPAs! It was so frustrating! I mean, do you have a boyfriend?” Lori chatted on in her dramatic, theatrical voice.  
  
She froze. Of course she hadn’t been moving, but she froze. Out of habit, she looked to who was next to her. Max. She was smiling cutely and tilting her head, her ginger hair that was tied up in a ponytail falling to one side. Nancy got a fuzzy feeling thinking about him, but before she could figure out what to say and how to say it…  
  
“No, there’s no one,” her mom commented curtly, and everyone got the same look of confusion. Max’s teasing expression dissolved.  
  
Not taking notice of the tension, her aunt said, “Oh, that’s a lie! She’s lying, isn’t she, babe?”  
  
The pet name was enough to annoy her more, but she wasn’t angry with her aunt Lori. She kept her gaze on her mom (who was looking down). “No. I guess she’s not.”  
  
In perfect time, her aunt Lisa came back into the room. “Kare, where’s your thermometer? I wanna make sure she’s not running fever,” she explained as her month-old cried in her arms.  
  
“Oh, God. Uh, hold on. I’ll go find it.”  
  
“I’ll help you,” Nancy announced bitterly while rising from her seat. Her mom began walking to the foyer, and she walked quickly to catch up with her. Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a big deal, but for weeks she had known her mom’s stance on her and Jonathan was being altered. She knew why but didn’t have the confirmation. They went upstairs silently, and Nancy stopped her halfway.  
  
“Why did you answer for me?” she said sharply while clutching her wrist.  
  
“Would you lower your voice?” she whispered, took her arm away, and continued walking.  
  
She was already upset, staying right behind her. “Is this about dad?”  
  
“Stop. Just, stop,” she ordered once they reached the top. She took a deep breath and smoothed back her light brown hair. Nancy crossed her arms. “First of all, I thought you wouldn’t even wanna talk about it. I mean, you guys, you’re so _private_ about the whole thing, it’s never seemed like something you would see as a table matter. And you know what, yes, it is about your father, alright? It’s about your father because it makes him uncomfortable.”  
  
“Uncomfortable,” she mirrored and nodded. To her, none of this was unbelievable. “Why would it make him uncomfortable?” she questioned rhetorically in a voice more than just edging on hurt. “Because he’s not who he wants _for_ me? Because he’s not like him?”  
  
Karen closed her eyes, shaking her head, and strode to the hall. “That’s not fair.”  
  
“You’re right, it’s not fair.”  
  
“That’s not-”  
  
“For someone who doesn’t seem to care at all about me, he sure has some serious feelings about the person I’m with. I mean, isn’t that what this is? You’re telling me how he feels. Are you gonna say anything that’s your own or just let him walk all over you like alway-”  
  
“God, shut up!” she pleaded as if to quiet her, but Nancy hadn’t been raising her voice at all. They were in the bathroom by then, Karen rifling through a drawer, her standing in the doorway. She looked up at her seemingly out-of-line daughter. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know what your father and I have done for his family, for Joyce, okay? And he’s just worried about you, can’t you see that?”  
  
“He’s worried about his vision for me.”  
  
“Just stop it.” She slammed the drawer shut, thermometer in hand.  
  
“Helping does not mean you care. I really thought you liked him, I can’t believe it.”  
  
Flipping off the light, shoving past her, she argued, “Oh, my God. I do care.”  
  
“You care enough to lie about it because you don’t want dad to lash out at you.”  
  
“I can’t...I can’t do this. I’m not talking to you anymore.”  
  
“You do realize that they’re coming here tonight. They’re coming to be here because you invited them. And we’re just talking about them like this, like we barely know them.”  
  
“You have to make yourself the victim all the time, don’t you?” she retaliated.  
  
“This isn’t about me.”  
  
“I’m done. I can’t...I’m done talking about this. If you want Lori to know you have a boyfriend, come and tell her,” she said and went downstairs.  
  
Nancy felt a pang of guilt but found it easy to defend herself in her mind. They’d never talked about her and Jonathan very explicitly, and once she’d started talking she couldn’t stop. The one thing that bothered her the most was her dad saw everyone’s flaws except his own. So it didn’t matter that he was brave or responsible or kind or smart or anything; he didn’t have money and he didn’t have his life laid out in front of him. And that apparently was enough to rule him out as someone she needed to be with. What was worse was her dad couldn’t say it himself to her face but complained to her mom about it.  
  
She went downstairs minutes later, silently going outside and hoping to not call attention to herself. As she opened the door, a rush of cold hit her. The air was smokey from the burning fires in every fireplace on the street. And there were Joyce, Jonathan, and Will, almost close enough to touch and walking up to her.  
  
“Hi, Nancy,” Will spoke.  
  
Forcibly blocking out her urge to cry, she returned distantly, “Hey, guys.”  
  
“Hey, what is it? Are you okay?” Joyce asked as Jonathan approached her. She looked breathtaking, even though he could tell something was wrong with her.  
  
“It-it’s nothing. I’ll be okay, I just needed some fresh air is all.”  
  
“Well...don’t stay outside long, please,” she advised, glancing at Jonathan and tugging on his jacket for a second before going in with Will.  
  
They were alone then. She stared at him. There was snow in his hair and on his clothes. His jaw tensed as he noticed the sad look in her eyes. “You’re late,” she told him simply. But they hadn’t even said when they were going to get there.  
  
“You’re crying.”  
  
He was right. Her vision was blurry, the gold lights on the bushes behind him softening, producing a bokeh effect.  
  
“I know,” she sighed heavily, hugging him. He wasn’t entirely used to her yet, but as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, he held his hand against her back. “We’ll go in soon. I need a second.”

He nodded as she returned to her own space, ending their hug. “You’re cold,” he stated after her hand grazed his.

She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Your jacket doesn’t go with my dress, though.”

“They’re both black.”

“I don’t need it.”

She could tell he was admiring her. He was blinking slowly, still focused on the fact that she felt like crying. That made her chest feel light, her frustration almost go away. “Look, um, don’t worry about...” She made an unclear gesture near her face, wondering if her mascara was smudged. “Like, I’m fine, okay?”

He was prepared to respond but stopped himself as she placed her hand on his arm. He looked down at it. Suddenly she didn’t have the heart to keep him from at least a little bit of the truth.

Grabbing onto his hand, she revealed, “I...was fighting with my mom.” She couldn’t lie to him. She couldn’t.

“Why?”

She chewed her lip anxiously, starting to turn, leading him to go with her down the walkway. They came to some chairs that were kept outside, and he sat down after her. “About my dad. About you,” she answered hesitantly. The second she said it, he already knew. “Wh-I mean, what was-”

 _You know,_ she thought. But instead she interrupted, “It’s nothing you did, okay, if that’s what you’re thinking. I promise. It was…my dad, like, it wouldn’t matter who you were. He’s...very judgemental of the people I’m involved with. And, well, it’s unfair. He thinks the only important thing is money, I swear, and I’m so sorry. But he complains to mom about it, and then she gets mad at _me,_ and-”

“Can you just apologize?”

She paused. “What?”

“Can you...can you just apologize to her?”

“ _Apologize?_ I-we didn’t do anything wrong,” she claimed.

“I can’t-I don’t want to be in this. I don’t want to be the reason you fight with your parents.”

“You are _not_ the reason here.”

He waited before asking quietly, “Why are we outside, Nancy?”

“Not because of you. It’s not.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Abruptly they heard music start to play loudly from inside. Her mother’s. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” by Frank Sinatra. He noticed the snow that was caught in her hair like his. There was snow all over her, really.

“I agree. It doesn’t, and it’s not fair, and I’m _sorry.”_

_From now on, our troubles will be out of sight._

“Please don’t be upset with me,” she added, keeping her gaze forward and away from him.

He stared at her a few moments longer, carefully leaning closer to her. She turned and accepted his kiss, holding the arm of her chair. His mouth was cool and dry as she pulled his lower lip into her mouth cleanly. He stopped, angling his head down slightly. “I’m not. But I don’t want this to be a problem.”

Her eyes remained closed as she enjoyed the feeling of his forehead resting on hers. “Problem or not, you’re in my life. Always. I’ll figure it out with my parents.”

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas._

She went to kiss him more, touching her lips to his, but not getting to cover his mouth as the door opened and the music’s sound became clearer. They stood up from the chairs and watched as Lisa and her husband exited the house.

Nancy walked toward them, Jonathan staying close to her. “Aunt Lisa, are you guys leaving?”

“Oh, we have to, sweetheart. Anna’s temp is crazy hot,” she informed while handing off the baby to her husband.

“Oh, no,” she said, genuinely concerned.

“It’s okay. Lore and your mom are coming with.” As she said it, the women left the house as well and joined them all.

Of course Lori passed Karen without helping her as she carried stuff for Lisa in both hands. Jonathan stepped past Nancy and held the door to keep it from shutting.

_Happy golden days of yore._

Karen looked up, a little wide-eyed. “Thank you, Jonathan,” she said, guilt lingering beneath her appreciation.

“You’re welcome,” he returned, voice endearing and sincere as ever.

_Faithful friends who are dear to us._

“Bye, honey,” Karen told Nancy, looking about as upset as she had been.

“Bye, babe, see you later,” Lori followed up while hugging her quickly. “By-ye, Jonathan,” she added in a flirty voice as he came to stand beside Nancy, running her hand through her blonde hair before catching up with everyone.

“My family _is_ the problem,” Nancy whined while initiating a side hug after they had all walked away. He reciprocated. “I forgive them.”

_Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow._


	2. Silent Night

**₁ ₉ ₈ ₅**

Their lives had stayed intact since last Christmas, breaking their streak of having one disaster per year. But they found as much worry in things being calm as they did solace. For every good dream, there were three bad ones the next night. That’s why everyone seemed closer, too, though; they had gained the choice—the privilege—to worry about deeper matters besides whether or not they were all even alive. The Gate had been closed for a while.  
  
This newfound sense of hope unexpectedly provided room for a lot of intimacy between Nancy and Jonathan, who were unimaginably close for people who still didn’t know certain details about each other. Like knowing the other’s most serious coping mechanisms but not their favorite animal or ice cream flavor. From time to time, it was disheartening. Again, from time to time. There was only so much worrying to do about a relationship that important to the both of them.

Because it was so important, she didn’t feel all that ashamed about _exaggerating the truth_ to her family to get the house to herself on Christmas Eve. A whole day before, she had told him to come over in the evening. So, yes, she was very confident in her little white lying abilities.  
  
“Why are you by yourself again?” he questioned when he got there, giving her a momentary hug.  
  
“You know the Light up the Pines thing? The light show?”  
  
He nodded while she blew out her mom’s too-strong Bayberry candle.  
  
“That’s one of our family traditions. And, um, guess what—I’m sick,” she said happily while holding up a tissue box. He shifted his weight, sighing quietly at her. “You really lied to them?” he asked helplessly.  
  
“I literally blow-dried my forehead,” she explained, grabbing his hand and holding it to her warm skin.  
  
He lightly rubbed the feverish place with the back of his cold hand, commenting, “And you wonder why they don’t approve of you dating.”

“ _What._ Ever.”  
  
“Your mom’s going to catch you doing something eventually, and she’ll think you’re acting out because of me.”  
  
“It is because of you,” she joked while pushing her hair out of her face, which she’d grown out a little that summer.  
  
“Well it’s not my fault.”

“She does like you. A lot, she does. I know it. It’s so different from last year.”

“She liked me the best when I just studied with you.”  
  
She gave a sympathetic smile, feeling the nice texture of his bluish green sweater. She kissed him slowly, holding back a shiver since he had come in from outside and was not warm in the slightest. Taking sections of his hair through her fingers, she pulled back and huffed. “It’s like that candle’s still burning,” she fussed while turning her head and looking to it on the other side of the room. “It’s giving me a headache. Does it bother you?”  
  
“A little,” he told her absentmindedly, though it didn’t.

“Go upstairs. I’m getting Tylenol.”

He let go of her and obeyed, starting to go up the stairs but stopping when he saw yet another candle on a table set up at the corner of the stairway. “Uh, wait…” he spoke up as she began to pass him on her way to the kitchen. She looked up at him tapping on the the glass of a cranberry candle. Just about exasperated, she exclaimed, “Oh, my God!”

“Now my gift idea for her isn’t gonna work.”

“Say you’re kidding.”

He looked at it. “No. Mine’s cinnamon.”

She waited a second and realized he _was_ kidding. While walking away, she whined, “Shut up, I wanna go to your house.”

“Okay, I actually like this one,” he said to her after blowing the candle out and bringing it to his cold nose.

“Go!” she called from the kitchen.

He did, finding her bedroom which he was familiar with now. He knew she thought his house was more calming—she was obsessed with it—but he really liked being here. He loved her pastel wallpaper and expensive mattress. As he sat on the edge of her tall bed, his eyes wandered to her bedside table. Their book for school was there, and the lack of page markers led him to infer that she hadn’t read much of the assigned parts yet. But there was something under the book that caught his attention. It was a letter, but before he let himself make out any of the words except _Dear Nancy,_ he heard her voice.

“We don’t even have Tylenol,” she groaned and sat next to him so hard the bed squeaked.

“Did you take anything?” he replied, looking down at her head as she rested it on his shoulder.

“Aspirin.”

He explained truthfully, “I still like your house better.”

She sighed and picked her head up, pressing her mouth onto his. Within the first touches she understood that something else was on his mind. Yet she crawled over him, settling on his lap, securing her arms around him (and that soft sweater). Belatedly they realized the stereo in the hall was on. Under its fizzing noise played “Silent Night” at a practically inaudible volume. Elvis Presley. She felt warmth in her stomach, leaning into him and pushing her upper lip on his lower, finding it easier to disregard his distracted state. He kept subtly pulling his head away and to the right as he could not think about anything other than that letter sitting under _As I Lay Dying_ next to her lamp. That letter which he hoped he was reading wrong.

“What?” she finally whispered

“Uh, I…”

She followed his gaze, twisting around to scan the nightstand. Out of nowhere, she got this sunny expression on her face. He watched her get off of him. Though he was growing upset, he couldn’t help but admire her. Her hair that she had tied back in a low ponytail was messy and her clothes were wrinkled. She looked perfectly untidy as she took the sheet of paper in her graceful hands.

_All is calm._

“Did you read it?” she asked him excitedly.

_All is bright._

Confused, he said, “I...read the first sentence.”

“Here.” She held it out to him.

_Dear Nancy,_

_Congratulations on your acceptance at Columbia College Chicago. We are thrilled to offer you admission and hope you will join our freshman class. We are impressed by your academic achievements, as well as your impact and involvement outside of the classroom. Please note that our offer of admission is based on the high level of academic success and personal character you have demonstrated thus far. Should you have any questions or need any assistance, you can contact our Admissions office through the phone number below this letter._

“You’re...you want to go to school in Illinois?”

She chewed her lip joyfully. “Well, yeah. Aren’t you going?”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s…I thought you applied to Columbia _University_ ,” he reminded, sounding lost as he observed her letter further. She stayed standing, her eyes continuing to sparkle. “The-the Ivy League one,” he said as if she didn’t know.

“You decided New York was too far.”

“Yes. _I_ did.”

“And I agree.”

“You wanted to go there, you said-”

“Hey,” she stopped him and sat next to him. “I...I didn’t get in.”

_Sleep in heavenly peace._

“You didn’t?” he asked quietly while giving the letter back to her.

“No, but it’s a good thing. You were right. If we go to Illinois,” she started, tracing the edge of the paper with her finger. “We can stay right here without staying _right here_.” That’s how he’d described it to her before, but just about himself.

_Silent night, holy night._

“This isn’t what I thought you wanted.”

“You think I want to be 12 hours away from you?” None of it was eliciting a reaction from him, so she got ready to clarify everything. “Today, December 24th, 1985,” she started through suppressed laughter. “I need you within arm’s reach. I see you almost every day right now, and I’m used to that. So in 4 years,” she trailed off and held his hand as he stared at her window.

“December 24th, 1989,” he offered.

_Glorious strains from Heaven afar._

“I think I’ll still need that. And, really, it’s gonna work out because, like, I can still major in journalism, and it’s just 2 hours away from here, and we’ll-”

“I know. It’s just...you applied for...this-this is an early decision letter.”

“Yeah.”

“So, when I applied…”

“Yeah.”

“And I didn’t know.”

She smiled, returning to her nightstand to leave the letter there.

“You must not have paid _any_ attention in _It’s a Wonderful Life_ ,” he said in a different tone than before.

Interested, she placed a hand on her hip. “What?”

“Appreciate the wrong things. That’s what George Bailey learned after he was visited by his angel.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like us being far away from each other. What if you got visited by _your_ angel and saw a life where you could not spend one day away from me. You would think the distance was amazing.”

The setting sun behind them was projecting slivers of light onto him through her curtains, and she studied the angles of his face, overwhelmed with happiness.

After a long moment she responded, “No, I wouldn't.”


	3. I’ll Be Home For Christmas

**₁ ₉ ₈ ₆**

Their first year of college had gone okay at first, but they were both on edge by the time fall was over. He missed his family. Talking on the phone alleviated the discomfort of not knowing how they were doing but not much else. She was so done with writing essays. Synthesis, analysis, argumentative, but nothing creative. Affording anything was difficult. Her roommates left her out of everything (but somehow he was blessed with a single dorm). Was it worth the lower cost of living on campus? She couldn’t even be with Jonathan after 10 o’clock because of the housing policies.

Tension developed that year, but not so uncontrollably that Christmas didn’t catch it. The both of them went home the day break started.

And by some mystifying, completely inexplicable means, she was bored enough to get them into trouble their first day back.

═════════

“Hey, Jonathan,” she blurted out. He was sitting in his dining room, writing something. “Are you busy?”

“Kind of, I’m almost done.”

“What’s that?” she questioned and gestured to his neatly written paragraphs. He formed a few more words with his pen and then shifted his focus to her. “It’s a thank-you note.”

“From you?”

“From me and mom and Will.”

“Well, that’s nice.” While he finished, she elaborated, “Speaking of nice, I wanted to tell you that you are. You’re so nice, and you’re grateful and generous. Um, _very_...you’re _very_ generous. She impatiently leaned her weight on a the back of a chair.

“And you’re manipulative,” he returned and stepped past her.

Feigning offense, she claimed, “I’m not manipulating you. I...I need a favor.” She replicated his movement, entering the living room after he did. “A small, tiny, little, baby favor, I promise.”

El, Max, and Will were sitting there by the Christmas tree, entertained by their exchange. Hopper was there with El, too. He was smirking like crazy.

Jonathan sat on the couch. “You lost your right to ask me favors yesterday when I let you drive.”

“That was not a favor, I wanted to give you a break. How was I supposed to know that truck was going to accelerate in front of us?” she mumbled innocently, sitting with one leg bent on the couch and the other hanging off the side.

He shrugged her off when she tried to hug him. “You know because of the stop sign.”

“Was she driving without a license? Do you have a license?” Hopper asked her loudly.

“Of _course_ I have a-”

“You don’t even have a permit,” Jonathan confirmed and got up again. She followed him into the hallway.

“Okay, okay, okay. Wait, stop, stop. Will you at least hear my favor?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, thank you. So, this morning I saw Ally and Melissa when I was taking Holl to school, right? I saw them, um, on the street. Like they were just walking somewhere, I don’t know. And you know, I was like asking them how they are and what university they’re at and all that kind of stuff. And then they tell me all of a sudden about this...party...that they’re planning on crashing. The juniors and seniors at the high school are having it tonight, and Ally was like, ‘Oh, it’s gonna be the best thing. We’re gonna just show up and bring drinks and all this stuff and we’re just gonna wait and see what happens and what they say to us.’ And I thought that sounded terrible, but she kept going and it was like she was patronizing me or _shaming_ me or something.”

“Nancy-”

“No, just listen. So she asked me, ‘Oh, there’s no chance you and Jonathan are coming, is there?’ And I said, ‘Actually, we already knew about it so maybe we’ll see you there.’ And now I’m really sorry, but I need you to come with me and drive and help me prove to them that they’re not above us or whatever,” she babbled on at a hundred miles a second.

“We are _not_ in high school.”

“I know it’s dumb, I know that. But I have to go, and I really wish I could take you with me.”

“You don’t have to do anything, that’s what you tricked yourself into thinking,” he informed, rubbing the side of his face softly in her hair while she hugged him.

“Yes or no?”

He paused, trying to come up with a revenge plan in his mind. “How long do we have to stay?”

═════════

She wore a tight, long sleeve shirt with a velvet mini skirt that she had no idea she owned. Well, she changed into the skirt in the car; she in fact wore jeans in front of her parents. The car ride was weirdly fun and exciting. She had never been to a party with Jonathan. They’d been at the same one once, but...not _with_ each other.

“Whose house is it that we’re going to?” he asked her and turned onto the street she’d given him.

She moved around in the passenger seat antsily. “Jessica’s.”

“Do you know her?”

“No, I know Melissa said, ‘It’s at Jessica’s house.’ And I know she’s a junior.”

“I don’t get this.”

“What?” she said blissfully, tucking her legs beside her onto the seat.

“This is the least cool thing we’ve ever done, and it’s a _party_.”

“Oh, it’s gonna be _so_ cool,” she maintained with not enough sarcasm. He drove slowly and parallel parked in front of the multistory house. She could see him getting actually nervous, keeping his hands to himself and furrowing his brow as they walked up the driveway. He remembered what this was like well. The strong drinks, the excessive kissing, the running, the falling, the breaking, the crashing, the dancing, the crying, the drinks, the drinks, the drinks. It really made him anxious, but he was there for her. Like he had been the first time around. It would be okay.

He pulled open the door, and the noise filled their ears with new intensity. There were lights everywhere, balloons, a Christmas tree that reached the ceiling, and so much more. Despite his disoriented condition, she knew exactly where they were going. She lead the way to a room in the hall, and wordlessly he went with her. There were some familiar people there. From their old class. He hid himself a little with the door frame, and she waved to Melissa, who came over. “Hey...wow, Nancy. You’re here.”

“I never missed too many of these,” she mentioned uncomfortably.

“I guess not. Well, uh, _our_ drinks are in the freezer, not the fridge. So there’s that...and, uh, what else am I supposed to say? Oh! The goal is not to ruin this whole thing, okay? But me and Stace have been messing with this one group of senior boys all night, so yeah, you’ll know when you see them. Kind of our targets,” she explained and left them in the doorway. He closed his eyes for a second to calm down.

She lead him again, this time to the kitchen. She opened the freezer, picking out a can of beer for herself. “Do you want anything?”

Emphatically, he replied, “I’m driving you.”

“Yeah, but one drink does nothing.”

“Then I don’t need it.”

She sighed, shutting the freezer door. “Okay, that’s fine, you don’t have to. I know this isn’t your favorite thing, I just don’t want you to be all the way miserable.”

“How is this anyone’s favorite thing?” he asked and stayed close to her while they walked to the spot she picked out for them. The couch in the center of the living room. It was not crowded, but not private. Sitting down carefully, he said, “I wish I could like this for you.”

“I don’t even like it that much. But…I don’t know, I like that it reminds me I’m not alone.”

“Constantly reminds you,” he corrected. She nodded, increasingly appreciative of him and the whole favor thing. When the door opened, she felt herself get the chills. He took note of her trembling. “Did you not bring your jacket in?”

“No, I did. I think I left it it the kitchen.”

“I’ll get it.”

On cue, one of the seniors Melissa referred to took his place next to her on the arm of the couch. “You one of the college girls?”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know about the ‘prank,’ but I don’t care. You one of the girls?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, emotionlessly. The guy gripped the couch when he repositioned himself. “What’s your major?”

Boredom evident, she continued to look straight ahead. “Journalism.”

“Okay, so what’s that mean? You, like, work with personal writing entries or…”

She tipped back her beer. “No, uh, it’s writing. We do-”

Abruptly, a different guy crashed down beside her, reaching under her and between the couch to grab her ass. She dropped her beer, her shoulders coming forward. She hadn’t even shouted. The guys laughed and she breathed hard. “You liked it!” she heard from somewhere in the room. It really was like high school.

In the kitchen, Jonathan was no safer from all the harassment. As he hunted for her jacket, a junior began talking to him. “Hey, I gotta ask you something. That girl next to you on the couch, is she ready?”

“Is she ready?” he repeated, finding her nice jacket in the dirty sink.

“Yeah, you fucking her, or is she ready? Can I go for her? I was gonna go talk to her,” he boasted.

He swallowed nervously, hating the way he spoke about her. Finding the guy’s eyes, then leaving the kitchen, Jonathan said, “You can leave us alone.”

They ran into each other, him trying to find her and her trying to find him. Angrily, she urged, “Follow me.” They trekked through the ocean of the drunk, the sick, the loud, and all of it in between until they got to a random bedroom down the hall. As he closed the door, she panted, “Where’s my jacket?”

In the new room, the ambience was a direct antonym of the one before. Music played in here too. But instead of blaring, lusty white noise it was Johnny Mathis singing “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.”

“I don’t think you’ll want it back,” he enlightened. She groaned, placing her hand on the side of her neck. “What happened?” he spoke up. She shook her head, seeming more indignant and less sad. “It doesn’t matter.” She started to pace the wood floor. He sat down. “Y’know, for once, I thought maybe we could blend in. I mean, we haven’t even seen the people in our class in a year. And they literally come back just to make us miserable and ruin our night. Like, what about the targeting the high schoolers thing? What’s the point of that if they’re just going to target us,” she went on, slurring her speech scarcely. How did she know that guy had come up to him? Or had she meant something else? He didn’t ask as she took a swig from a Tequila bottle he never saw her take.

“Why do they get to say we should be singled out? It’s not fair. Even Melissa and Ally, who I thought I was kind of friends with, acted weird around me and were laughing at me out there. Why does everyone want to push that we don’t belong here?”

_I’ll be home for Christmas._

She finally sat down, straightening her skirt. “We _don’t_ belong here,” he simply said. “We’re...down the hall. It’s hard for us to stay out there.”

“What if...what if I don’t want to be a down-the-hall person? What if I want to have fun?”

“You’re not having fun?”

_You can count on me._

She lied down, her head on the pillows at the top of the bed. “We ha-have the right to be in the living room like...like everyone else. I don’t think I should be a down-the-hall person.”

“You’re not. Just this time.”

She whimpered, taking more and more drinks of her Tequila. “Hey, Jonathan,” she said, combining the last two syllables of his name. “I love you.”

_When the love light gleams._

He stayed still, his jaw tightening. He stood up and held her hand, getting her to sit up. “Can I take you home?” Maybe he would say it when she wasn’t drunk.

“Okay,” she sighed dreamily.

_If only in my dreams._


End file.
